Escape
by MaryandMerlin
Summary: Bellatrix reflects on her time in Azkaban


**Author's Note: So I hope that I have managed to do justice to this. I really quite like this fic!**

 **Prompts**

 **QLFC - Round 9**

Write about a witch or wizard gaining freedom

(restriction) no using '?'

(quote) Because you are imagining, you might as well imagine something . . . . . . . . worthwhile. (Anne Shirley) - L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

(song) Stronger - Kelly Clarkson

 **Assignments - History of Muggles**

Egyptians - The police

Write a story with the setting: Prison/Azkaban

 **Percy Jackson Challenge - Bianca Di'Angelo**

Write about someone who wants to be free

 **Disney Challenge - Cruella De'vil**

Write about Bellatrix Lestrange

 **FRIENDS Challenge - TOW the Princess Leia Fantasy**

Write a fic set at night.

 **Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything you recognise!**

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Escape

Bellatrix supposed she was one of the lucky ones, if anyone in this rotting hell hole could be considered lucky. She had spent so much of her life before now in the dark and the cold, alone, that this wasn't so much of a hardship. The dementors had long ago sucked all the happiness out of her few treasured memories. The moments in her early years when Bellatrix realised who she was, how she enjoyed the pain of others, the awe and worship she felt for the Dark Lord.

Still, the days and nights of solitary confinement were long and lonely. The barren, deserted island upon which Azkaban was built was always dark and always stormy. Only the varying shades of grey and the three meals a day let Bellatrix know that time was actually passing, that she wasn't frozen in some eternal hellscape.

For fifteen years, Bellatrix had existed here. She couldn't say she had lived, because this wasn't living. Life had to have pleasure in it to be lived. No, she had existed for fifteen years, waiting. With the one thing that even the dementors couldn't take away from her.

Faith.

Her faith in the power and might of the Dark Lord had gotten Bellatrix through the last 15 years of imprisonment and that faith had only strengthened in the past year. Bella took her head off the stone wall behind her and looked down at her bare arm. She had long since ripped away the tattered sleeve of her robe, all the better to study and obsess over the dark mark branded into the pale flesh.

When she had been imprisoned the image of skull and snake had been so faint it was hard to tell in the gloom of Azkaban whether she simply imagined the outlines. Now as she looked fondly upon it the ink was once again rich and dark, the snake writhed and hissed - once more full of life.

Bellatrix let one long, pale finger trace the snake on her arm. It filled her with delicious, wicked warmth to know that the Dark Lord was alive once more and she knew he would be coming for his most faithful servant soon. Even in Azkaban whispers of gossip and rumours reached the ears of her inmates. She knew her worthless, pathetic toad of a cousin had escaped and she knew that the recent tournament at Hogwarts had ended in death and destruction. It could mean only one thing.

He was back.

A rare smile tugged at her lips as Bellatrix let her head fall back against the cold stone again. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply listening to the sounds around her. The howling wind and pelting rain was complimented by the whimpers, moans and screams of her fellow inmates. She liked to imagine that it wasn't the dementors and the horrors of their own minds that caused such pain but rather the sounds were forced by Bellatrix herself.

She would imagine the feel of her wand in her hand. The rush of power leaving her as she cast the curse. The influx of emotion that came from hearing the pleading and screaming of her victims. It was invigorating. She imagined the Dark Lord watching her, encouraging and praising her as she did his bidding. In the darkness, these worthwhile imaginings were what made her existence bearable.

As her own sick sense of joy began to wash through her Bellatrix felt the ominous presence of the dementors. Like moths to a flame they were drawn to her elevated emotions but even as that familiar pull settled over her, as they began to suck at her happiness. She fought against the feeling, holding onto her thoughts and imaginations of glorious torture, letting her own moans and screams fuel the images. As the Dark Lord had always told her, what didn't kill her would only make her stronger.

Bellatrix didn't know how long she had sat there, drained and yet revived, when she became aware of the pounding. It was a distant thrumming at first, that barely penetrated her vivid visions but eventually it grew so powerful that the wall behind her shuddered, throwing Bellatrix forward and out of her musings.

Blinking, she looked around in confusion, though she knew she wouldn't be able to see the source of the interruption. She realised that there was no longer a drain on her emotions as the dementors feeding on her had scattered. Fleeing or assembling, Bellatrix didn't know but they were gone and she felt all the stronger for it.

Bellatrix climbed to her feet and rushed to the small, high window. Standing on tiptoes she tried to peer through the small slats but her angle and the height of the window she could see nothing more than the dark, roiling clouds. The night skies betrayed no hint or clue as to what the rumbling, thunderous sounds were or where they came from.

She didn't have to wait long, however, to discover just what was going on. The next bang came as an explosion that threw Bellatrix across the room. She cracked her head against the stone wall and slid into a pile on the ground. Her vision swam and her ears rang as she sat there on the floor but as she regained her senses Bellatrix realised that it was stinging rain that peppered her cheeks and whipping wind that ripped at her hair.

She squeezed her eyes closed and when she opened them again she could see straight. Across from her, where there had once been solid wall, a jagged hole had appeared, allowing the elements in for the first time in fifteen years. Shivering, Bellatrix pushed herself upwards on shaking legs. She could feel warm blood trickling down her forehead, but she ignored it, instead staggering forward.

Bellatrix stepped outside of her cell with a feeling of excitement bubbling in her gut. With one hand braced against the jagged wall, she looked out into the dark sky beyond. Dementors swirled around in the darkness, appearing and disappearing as they blended with the darkness, but peppered in amongst them were dark figures on brooms with glinting, silver faces.

As Bellatrix recognised her brothers and sisters in arms, she threw her head back and laughed.

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 **Much Love, MaryandMerlin x**


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